


like little girls who've discovered a soulmate

by skatzaa



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Queen's Shadow - E. K. Johnston
Genre: F/F, Getting Together, Naboo Culture and Customs (Star Wars), Plans For The Future, Post-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Pre-Star Wars: Queen's Shadow, Sharing a Bed, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/pseuds/skatzaa
Summary: It was the last night before the election—her last night as the First Naboo Royal Handmaiden to Queen Amidala—and Sabé could not sleep.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Sabé
Comments: 14
Kudos: 81
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	like little girls who've discovered a soulmate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thestrongeststars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestrongeststars/gifts).



> I've tagged this as Queen's Shadow because it's technically compliant with the first part of the book (which inspired this fic as I was listening to it this morning), but it doesn't pull too heavily from the book, for anyone concerned.
> 
> thestrongeststar, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Title from Fire, by Kristin Cashore.

It was the last night before the election—her last night as the First Naboo Royal Handmaiden to Queen Amidala—and Sabé could not sleep.

She stared up at the ceiling of the room she and Padmé shared in the queen’s suite. Theed certainly wasn’t the loudest city Sabé had ever visited—Coruscant undoubtedly held that dubious honor—but, compared to the stillness of the Lake Country, it was practically bustling. She found that she missed the roar of the falls beyond the palace walls, the rush of engines as ships took off and landed from the hangars, and the knowledge that, somewhere nearby, someone was moving with purpose.

Here, in the Lake Country estate that Sabé had grown to both love and hate, the only ones who moved this late at night were the guards, watching over Padmé through her last night as queen. Even now, Panaka would tolerate no risks.

Were they in Theed, Sabé might also be up and working diligently to prepare for their next assignment or state occasion—perhaps helping Rabé with last minute alterations to the chosen uniforms, or reviewing contingencies with Eirtaé and Panaka. The youngest of them, Saché and Yané, would help in their own ways; usually, this involved keeping an eye on the queen’s room, and shepherding Padmé back to bed every time she tried to join them. Queen Amidala’s input was important, of course, and Padmé’s eye as a handmaiden, even more so. But unless Sabé was to be the one acting as Queen Amidala, Padmé’s rest was more crucial than anything else she could contribute.

But no more. After tomorrow, perhaps as early as lunch, Sabé would no longer be a Naboo Royal Handmaiden. And she had no idea what would come next, because Padmé had told her nothing of her own plans.

Sabé loved her planet, and had been honored to serve it these last three years, but she loved Padmé more. She could not stay as a handmaiden—even if they would have her, she looked nothing like either of the candidates most likely to win the election—nor would she. Not if Padmé planned to do something else.

“Sabé.” A whisper from the other side of the room: Padmé, her voice so soft that, had they been in Theed, Sabé likely would not have heard her at all. She turned her face in the direction of the other bed, only to find Padmé already watching her, propped up on one elbow, curls cascading around her face and shoulders. Then: “Come here.”

She drew back the light covers and slipped out of bed, padding silently across the room. Moonlight spilled across the lush carpet, entering through a window made of transparisteel of such a high quality that nothing, Sabé had been told, could pierce it.

This was a handmaidens’ room, technically, one of three. Had Padmé been so inclined, she would’ve been housed in the main room of the suite, where the bed was large enough to fit all six of them; they had tried, in the first year of Amidala’s reign, and it had ended with Panaka flying into the room, blaster raised, when Eirtaé fell onto the floor shrieking. But Padmé, with a twinkle in her eye, had bestowed the room upon Saché and Yané for this final visit, so they could sleep in the same bed, as had become their custom following the Battle of Naboo. 

So Padmé and Sabé shared one room, which had two beds meant to fit a single person each, while Rabé and Eirtaé took the second. The third, which one slightly larger bed—meant for the First Handmaiden, and therefore was the closest room to the queen’s, with direct access through a hidden door—remained empty.

Padmé pushed the covers down and allowed Sabé to slip in beside her. The bed was small enough that it was impossible to keep from touching her at all, but Sabé did her best to keep contact to a minimum, folding tightly in on herself. They shifted until they were eye to eye, hands under their heads on the pillow, and then Padmé’s cold toes pressed against Sabé’s shins.

That was one very selfish reason why Sabé was glad that Amidala’s two terms were up: somehow, without any of them quite noticing it, at least at first, Sabé had grown taller than her queen. Initially, they had combated this with small, practical heels for the queen and each of her fellow handmaidens; it was the same as they had done when Yané hit her growth spurt at the beginning of the second year. By altering each of their heights for a time, even the smallest amount, it became less obvious which of them was actually growing. 

But then Sabé had kept growing, until Padmé’s eyes only reached her mouth, and it became too much of a height difference to be concealed with heeled shoes. They had cut back on the number of decoy maneuvers they completed—though that number was already staggeringly low, compared to Amidala’s first year as queen—and Yané, next closest in looks, had taken over most of the decoy duties.

Sabé was still First Handmaiden, but something bitter and cloying and terribly, utterly selfish clawed at her throat whenever she thought of the past few months, relegated to the background while they all hoped that Yané would be able to take her place. It was her place to serve the queen in whatever capacity was needed, and Sabé would gladly serve, but she hated to leave Padmé’s safety so firmly in the hands of another.

Cold fingers touched her face, and she flinched out of her thoughts.

Padmé watched her with solemn eyes, her hand resting more firmly against Sabé’s cheek now, and Sabé cursed herself for becoming so embroiled in her own petty worries.

“What troubles you?” Padmé whispered, her voice kept low so as not to wake any of the others. They all slept lightly, alert for any threats, and so they always tried not to disturb anyone’s sleep unless absolutely necessary.

Sabé gave a thin smile that she knew wouldn’t fool Padmé for a second. She said, “Everything and nothing, as usual.”

Padmé accepted the non-answer, but only for the moment. Just as Sabé knew Padmé better than any of the others, Padmé knew all of Sabé; not just the parts of herself that she poured into Amidala, but  _ Sabé . _

As she watched, Padmé sighed and allowed her eyes to close for the briefest moment. A cry for help, heard more clearly than anything Padmé might’ve said.

“And why are you still awake at this hour?” Sabé asked, voice gentle. Not an accusation; simply support.

“The election.” Padmé said, but that was obvious. “The unknown to follow.” She met Sabé’s eyes squarely, fiercely determined but equally afraid. “I have only the faintest idea of what I will do, Sabé. And when I think of facing it without the five of you by my side…”

She didn’t finish her thought, but she didn’t have to. Sabé understood, as they all understood.

“I am with you.” Sabé made sure to hold her gaze, so Padmé would see the truth of it. “No matter what, I am with you.”

Padmé stared at her a moment longer, and then something shifted in her eyes, and she curled closer, bridging the space that Sabé had left between them. She tucked her head beneath Sabé’s chin, arms held tightly to her chest, and Sabé was helpless to do anything but pull Padmé even closer and run a soothing hand over her hair, and then bury her fingers in the curls.

Sabé breathed as Padmé did, her breath warm on Sabé’s collarbone. And then, Padmé’s soft voice: “You mean it?”

Sabé drew back until she could see Padmé fully, who looked, if possible, younger even than when she was first elected queen. Her eyes shone in the moonlight.

“Yes,” Sabé said, and then she took a breath, gathering her courage in both her hands. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Padmé said, without the slightest hesitation.

Her life, yes, Sabé thought, but perhaps not her love.

She had never dared, when they were queen and handmaiden, and though they still were, as of tomorrow, they would be free. And they had the rest of their lives in front of them. She would be the biggest coward in the galaxy if she did not take this chance.

Sabé brought her hand to cup Padmé’s face, palm to cheek, fingers curling around her jaw. She waited, but Padmé didn’t move away.

She slid forward across the bed, until their knees touched, their stomachs, their chests. And then she lean in, and kissed her.

It was a little awkward—Sabé couldn’t tilt her head properly because of the pillow, and almost immediately something in her neck protested about being stretched too far—but it was soft, and gentle, and sweet, all things that she associated with Padmé Naberrie, a girl from Naboo’s quiet Lake Country.

Padmé’s hand found Sabé’s waist, fingers tangling in the fabric of her nightgown. She tugged Sabé, and they rolled together—Padmé, onto her back, Sabé above her, braced on one forearm. They kissed for so long that Sabé lost track of the galaxy beyond Padmé’s lips on hers, and Padmé’s body, warm and soft beneath her.

When at last they parted and Sabé returned to her spot by Padmé’s side, her shoulder ached slightly after holding her weight for so long, and her lips tingled. Their eyes met. Padmé giggled, a soft, girlish sound that Sabé had only heard infrequently. She smiled in return, and then could not repress her own laugh of happiness and giddy relief.

They whispered about potential plans for their future well into the night, long past when they should have slept. Nothing was certain, but they knew that no matter what happened after tomorrow, they would have each other.

Rabé woke her in the morning, a fond smile gracing her lovely face. They had fallen asleep, it seemed, tangled together in Padmé’s bed, small as it was. Sabé nodded to Rabé, who saw herself out, and then turned her attention to Padmé, still sleeping, her head pillowed on Sabé’s mostly numb arm.

The light of the after dawn hour kissed her skin and her hair, gilding her with gold. Sabé had seen Queen Amidala in many grand and breathtaking gowns over her four year reign, but nothing, Sabé thought then, could compare to the sight of Padmé in her arms, her face slack with sleep and her hair mussed from the night. 

She leaned in and kissed Padmé’s forehead before setting about waking her. There was much to be done that day, and Padmé would be required for almost all of it.

No matter who won, the coronation would occur within the week. And after that: their whole lives.

She found she was quite looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] like little girls who've discovered a soulmate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22552507) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




End file.
